


5 Times Mattie Murdock Appreciated Foggy Nelson's Body, And One Time She Didn't

by Swiggity_swydra_fuck_hydra (Haych_Aych_Ach)



Series: Everything is M/F femslash and nothing hurts [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Affirmation, Body Worship, Disability, Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, F/F, Genderswap, I just really love build a bear ok, Insecurity, Panic Attacks, Prosthetic Limbs, Social Pressures, Stuffed Toys, fart jokes, fatphobia, past body shaming, stretch marks, stuffed animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:12:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7032544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haych_Aych_Ach/pseuds/Swiggity_swydra_fuck_hydra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: the actions characters take in this story, the things they are into, and how they behave is not a reflection on the author or commenter/reader's own beliefs, interests, morals, personality, etc. Fiction is fiction. What some characters like to do and what they think is right is not necessarily correlating with reality or truth, etc.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: the actions characters take in this story, the things they are into, and how they behave is not a reflection on the author or commenter/reader's own beliefs, interests, morals, personality, etc. Fiction is fiction. What some characters like to do and what they think is right is not necessarily correlating with reality or truth, etc.

It happens the first time they naked-cuddle.

It's not after sex—they haven't had sex yet, are negotiating how to without hurting each other—and Mattie's the big spoon, her ridiculous Amazon arms wrapped around Foggy's waist, and she feels calm. For the most part. Just a little bit nervous.

Then Mattie's fingers stroke the skin on her belly, the tiger stripes.

"What are these?"

Foggy swallows. Here it comes. "Uh, they're stretch marks." She waits for the inevitable.

Mattie's fingers stroke again. "Hmm. I like them."

What.

"What?"

"I like them," Mattie says again. "They're very soft and silky. They add a good texture."

"You like—" Foggy stops. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, except when you think it's got fangs. "You like my stretch marks?"

"Yep."

"They're from when you suddenly get bigger," Foggy says again. She feels like she's in shock. "I—what?"

Mattie shrugs. "They feel nice."

Foggy doesn't know what to say.

"I wonder if I have any," Mattie muses. 

"Uh. I can check?" Foggy feels like she's in entirely new territory, as far as these things go. In her admittedly limited experience with naked cuddling, anything exploratory ends up with at least some comment about the many miracles cocoa butter could do for her, not casual enjoyment. 

Mattie rolls onto her back, and Foggy swallows at her visible abs, her chiseled arms, her skull-crushing toned thighs. Her lovely big breasts, firmer than Foggy's and a bit smaller. Her calm face, blank eyes and slightly mournful resting expression.

"No."

Mattie rolls onto her front, and then Foggy sees them, and laughs before she can help herself. "Oh god, wait, no, you totally do."

"Where?"

"On your  _butt_ ," Foggy says, and giggles half from nervousness and half from the absurdity of the situation. "Your fucking awesome butt."

Mattie laughs too and jiggles it with her hips.

"Can I grab it?"

"Please do," and Mattie's using a teasing faux-sultry tone.

Foggy grabs handfuls. "Goddamn," she says. "Mattie, your ass is amazing."

"Really? The other kids at the orphanage said it was too fat," Mattie says matter-of-factly.

"Fuck them, there's no such thing as too fat an ass," Foggy rebuts. Her own is the unfortunate combination of big and flat. "It's so fucking round. Mattie, I just want to, like. Paint pictures of your ass."

Mattie giggles. "No," she says.

"Okay, okay," Foggy says. "But it's great."

"It is. I bet the stretch marks make it feel better too."

Foggy squeezes the butt and strokes it all over, checking with Mattie. She's right; the stretch marks kind of make it even prettier, like it's straining to escape and conquer the known universe or something.

Mattie bursts into laughter when Foggy tells her, rolls back over and rubs Foggy's tummy. "This is gorgeous too," she declares. "All soft and silky and stretched. I love it."

Foggy's breath catches. "I. Thanks."

"I really do," Mattie says in earnest. "I'm not saying it just to make you feel happy. It's really good and I like it."

Foggy smiles, tiny and shy and true.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It's the end of a bad day for Foggy.

Her leg's overheating a bit; it's new, good design, Pym Tech (the StarkTech ones are flashier but tend to break in weird ways faster, Pym Tech is tried and true and also not funded by imperialistic murderers), and yet it's muggy and disgustingly sunny outside, and her leg is too fucking hot, and she has an eight-page paper to write on a book she can't stand ( _ Nervous Conditions _ , which she wants to  _set on fucking fire_ ), and she's just tired and gross and sore.

She yanks off her leg and lies down on her bed with a loud half-scream of frustrated exhaustion.

Mattie, from the other desk, twitches. Right. Sudden loud noises. Foggy suddenly feels like a jerk. "Sorry," she says. "My fucking leg is too hot and I'm just. Ugh. Professor Roberts is making us write this fucking paper in Chicago style for no reason and it's  _eight pages_  and I hate the book it's on, and today in the dining hall they only had god-damn banana bran cereal and I'm just done."

Mattie tilts her head and nods. "That sucks."

Foggy's so glad Mattie listened to her that one time she explained that she didn't want solutions when she bitched about problems (Foggy  _ knows _ how to fix her own fucking problems, thank you very much, she doesn't want advice or solutions or to be implied to be an idiot, she wants emotional validation, intimacy, and reassurance), she wanted empathy or at least active listening. If she heard anything about how she should just start working on the paper or get a white ceramic leg instead or something, she'd lose her shit.

For a while Foggy just stares at the ceiling, listening to Mattie typing and dictating, not having feelings. Then she takes some deep breaths, writes an invective-filled outline for her paper, and goes on tumblr to stare at pretty people who don't have legs like hers. Then she gambols over to the Batman kinkmeme, and reads a delicious Harley/Ivy/Selina fic, and it makes her bite her lips and ask Mattie if she wants to fuck.

Mattie considers it. "Sure. I'm not making any headway on this probability problem anyway, and I've got the rough draft of the other paper done."

"Which paper?" Foggy asks, wriggling off her jeans.

"The one about how Gene Belcher is a trans girl," Mattie explains, coming over and kissing Foggy, shimmying out of her own jeans and neatly folding them and putting them into the dirty laundry hamper.

"Right. How did you get Dr Yang to agree to that again?"

"I argued that I could make it scholarly and six pages," Mattie says, and one hand reaches down to Foggy's hips, and she picks up Foggy's entire lower half, making her squeak. "This good?"

"Can you keep holding me up the entire time?"

"Yes," Mattie says, and dives in, gently but firmly pushing Foggy's legs into a more-than-a-split and going at it with enthusiasm. After she makes Foggy come, shaking, they switch and Mattie lies back against Foggy, clutching her black bear Ophelia and Foggy's other arm, gasping and coming silently. Her face is a work of art.

They lie there for a minute, and something occurs to Foggy. She's read before that people you're dating should learn to be fully comfortable with you as an amputee. "Uh. Mattie. Could you feel my stump?"

Mattie reaches down and feels, and Foggy has to struggle to not flinch. She's not—she doesn't let people touch the end of it, the actual stump part—

But all Mattie does is shrug. "It's different," she says thoughtfully. "Feels like scar tissue, smooth and healed. It's fine."

"You don't think it's gross?"

"No," Mattie says, and then bends down to press a kiss to it. "I like it. You have it because you decided to go with the medically safest option and lose your leg. I'm glad it exists and so you do."

Foggy's eyes get a bit watery, but all she says is, "Thanks."

Most times after that, whenever Mattie's teasing her, circling her by biting her inner thighs and kissing her hips and her happy trail and tummy, she makes sure to smooch the stump as well. 


	3. Chapter 3

It comes first as a text message.

 _mattie. help me_.

Mattie doesn't hesitate, sits down from where she's picking up Maria's living room. What do you need?

_im losing my shit. help me calm down_

Okay. Are you injured right now?

_no_

Are you on your period?

_no_

Are you with someone dangerous?

_no. at home in my room. alone._

Okay. Get a bottle of water and a snack. Are you nauseous?

_yes. afraid._

Okay. Get a snack and a Zofran. Drink some of the bottle, and then take the Zofran and eat the snack. 

_ok_

_did it. now what?_

Pick up one of your stuffed animals.

_which one?_

Pikachu. Pick her up and hug her. Lie on your bed and take deep breaths with me. One in for three seconds. Hold it for seven. Out for four seconds.

_ok_

Again. Keep breathing with me. Go to Netflix on your laptop.

_ok_

Put on something soothing.

_can't pick_

Put on Planet Earth, the Mountains episode. 

_ok_

Tell me if you feel better.

_yes. stay with me._

Okay. Tell me what David Attenborough is talking about.

_volcanoes_

Okay. Keep taking deep breaths. When you can, try to eat more and drink even more water. Are you cold?

_yes_

Put a blanket on you. The really soft one. 

_ok. love you._

I love you too. Tell me if you need anything else.

_stay with me_

Keep telling me what's going on in Planet Earth.

_mountain monkeys. geladas._

What else?

_they eat almost nothing but grass. lots of grass._

Oh?

_also guanacos are ridiculous. they are bishonen alpacas. it is so fucking weird._

Where do they live?

_patagonia. also there are pumas. they are so cute_

How many pumas?

_five. a big family. mama and four cubs_

Sounds cute. Tell me if you feel better soon or if you need anything else.

There's a long quiet after that. But then:  _yes. i feel better. love you so much mattie._

I love you too. You're important to me.

_tell u abt it later._

Mattie goes back to cleaning. She's staying at Maria and Frank's house in exchange for helping with the house and the new baby, Lisa, for the summer.

* * *

 

What caused the meltdown comes out later: apparently, Foggy's skin bruising easily and being soft and stretchy and Foggy's incredible flexibility and Foggy's joint pain all come together with a new diagnosis. Mattie learns about this over Starbucks, Foggy shaking opposite her as she plays with her green tea frappe.

"And, so, um, it's called Ehlers-Danlos and apparently it's diagnosed really late for most people because nobody knows about it, and there's a support group for it in New York and one two hours away from campus, and the color for it is zebra pattern which is  _great_ since I don't really look good in a lot of patterns but that one is good," Foggy babbles on. "And apparently now Rosalind is losing her shit and trying to get me in with the one specialist for it in the US and my parents are losing their shit and Candace is getting clingy again, and it's making  _me_ crazy!"

Mattie nods. "So it's not cancer?"

"It's not cancer."

"It's not terminal?"

"It's not terminal."

"Is it getting worse right now?"

"I don't...think so? And they're going to do some. Uh. More testing to be absolutely sure, but yeah." Foggy's eyes smell like sad-tears, and Mattie reaches forward to kiss her.

"So what I'm hearing is that this doesn't mean bad things ahead, but it explains a lot of things together about you?"

"Yeah," Foggy says. "It explains why my incisions took so fucking long to heal. And why it freaks people out when I can do contortionist stuff." And then she turns to sounding frustrated rather than furious. "And you know, I totally  _could_ be calm about this and shit and just feel my feelings and get over it if my family could calm down. But they're all acting like it's a recurrence and it's  _not_ , and it just makes everything worse."

Mattie reaches out and holds her hand. "I can be calm about this for you."

Foggy sniffles. "Yeah?"

"Yes. You're still you, and you aren't going to die," Mattie says. "This isn't the end of the world, or you."

Foggy takes a few deep breaths. "Can you—this might sound weird—can you find something, some assistive tech for this that's super expensive that I can get Rosalind to buy so she'll stop doing her weird condescending freakout?"

"Probably," Mattie says ruefully. Most assistive tech, especially ones designed for rare and specific conditions, tend to run on the hyper-expensive side of things. "And I can probably find a few tumblrs about it for you too."

Foggy nods and gulps in air. "I just. They're freaking out so bad, they want me to transfer to a closer college, it feels like they're suffocating me with their panic."

Mattie squeezes Foggy's hand. 

* * *

 

Over the next few weeks, news keeps coming in. Mattie finds sterling silver ring splints, fancy fitted knee and wrist braces, and a laptop-bed desk that's amazing. She finds multiple good Ehlers-Danlos tumblrs and sends the links, cleans Maria's house and watches Lisa, cooks for them and scrubs the fridge and deep-cleans the carpet and washes the dishes. 

She and Foggy meet about once every three weeks, and the next time they do it's at a Rita's, Foggy is less puffy-eyed and more annoyed. "God, they're mother-henning the shit out of me."

"That sucks," Mattie says. "What are the flavors?"

Foggy peers at them. "Cotton candy, blue raspberry, wild black cherry, Alex's lemonade, juicy pear, mango, sugar-free dragonfruit, key lime, and Swedish fish."

Mattie gets a large, half-key-lime half-lemonade Italian ice; Foggy gets a large cotton candy. The smell of the custard makes Mattie's stomach knot itself and her heart pump like she needs to run, so they walk away and take deep breaths. 

"So I was wondering," Foggy says. "You can hear my joints."

"Yes," Mattie says.

"Did they—do they sound looser? And did they  _sound_ like I was dislocating them when I did the super stretches, or just—?"

"Yeah," Mattie says, rotting-milk under her skin and guilty, "I didn't think they were hurting you, though, I just thought they were different. I can dislocate my joints if I try hard enough. I figured you had a higher pain tolerance."

Foggy makes an inarticulate noise. "Well, apparently doing the dislocations hurts the joints over time, so we shouldn't."

Mattie shrugs. She can take or leave medical advice.

There's more quiet. "Maybe we should make a rule that whenever we notice anything medically weird about each other, we tell each other," Foggy says.

Mattie nods. Foggy nudges her.

"Hey. I'm not actually mad, you know that, right? I'm a little bit annoyed, but you've known me for like, two years. My family's known me my whole life and they didn't suspect anything. And you're not my doctor, that's not your job."

Mattie nods again, but still feels guilty. She files it away as something for confession, and then says, "Do you like purple?"

"As a color? Yeah," Foggy says. "As an abstract concept, not really."

"Okay," Mattie says, puzzling it over. Foggy likes gifts that signify acceptance of what she is, the parts of her that other people wish didn't exist. She liked the  _Diet Industry Dropout_ top, and she liked the pizza-patterned panties, and she likes the kisses on her stump, the bronze jewelry to match her leg. She likes purple, and soft things, and she only has  _three_ stuffed animals, while Mattie has four.

She has a plan.

* * *

 

Actually  _finding_ it takes a lot of work. Mattie has to go on eBay and Amazon and five other sites, negotiate prices and scrape together for the month, but she manages it. Foggy deserves the best. 

She asks Maria to help triple-check that it is what she wants to be buying, and gets it, hiding it in her backpack when she and Foggy move back into their room on the Saturday before classes start.

It's Sunday lunchtime when they're finished unpacking and arranging the room, and Foggy's lying back on her bed, the medically-necessary air conditioner blasting away, and Mattie picks then to unearth it from under her pillow.

"Hey," she says. "So I found this. This is for you," and she hands the purple-and-zebra-striped bear-skin to Foggy.

Foggy's breath hitches, and then she pulls Mattie down for a hug. Mattie squeezes her back, and Foggy says wetly, "I can't. Um. Not yet, baby, I love it, but I can't yet."

Mattie kisses her. "Okay. Let me know when you're ready."

"I love you so much," Foggy says, her voice cracking. "I really do. You're just. You're so thoughtful, you know that?"

Mattie smiles. "It's a skill."

"It's something you're really good at," Foggy tells her, crying quietly, and Mattie lies down with her, holding her and letting Foggy just  _feel_ everything. By the end of it, Foggy's blowing her nose and saying, "Shit, I got your shirt all snot-covered."

"I have other shirts," Mattie says, gets up and changes them.

"Yeah." There's quiet for a minute as Foggy wipes her face off and then goes and washes it.

Then she comes back and sits up with Mattie, sipping at a ginger ale as they watch the new season of  _Archer_ together.

* * *

 

They stuff the bear two months later, once Foggy's gone to the EDS support group twice and gotten her fitted ring splints and gotten used to her new understanding of herself. Foggy names it Irina, after a famous contortionist, and it joins her other stuffed animals on her bed, where Mattie knows that Foggy hugs it on bad pain days.

That night, as they're both lying in bed, waiting to fall asleep, Foggy says, "Mattie?"

"Mm?"

"Do you...are you  _actually_ calm about this whole thing, or did you just pretend to be calm for me?"

Mattie rolls over, Dymphna in one arm. "I don't like that you're in pain," she says. She practiced this with Caitlin, how to say what she means without hurting Foggy by making her feel invalidated or rejected. "Or that you're stressed, or that your joints don't stay in place. But it's you, and I like you. I like your skin, and I did like how flexible you are. I like how it's easy to give you hickies. And I like your body because it's a part of you, and because it's beautiful, even though it doesn't work like it should."

Foggy's breath hitches, and then calms. "Mattie?"

"Yes?"

"I love you  _so much_."

"I love you too," Mattie says, and when they sleep that night, neither of them wake up for nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Irina: (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/4d/13/08/4d13088c14314c4ddf1e04fff6a7b3be.jpg)


	4. Chapter 4

Mattie woke up from her nightmare soaked in sweat, gasping into her pillow, and shaking. Shit.

She got up out of bed the second she could, stumbling over to where they kept the fresh body-wipes and the dry shampoo, hands trembling as she fought to get herself clean. She knew better than to try to take a shower or leave the room at this stage of a post-nightmare—all that would do is escalate it into a full-blown flashback or panic attack. Instead, she curled up on the floor, shivering wildly, trying to calm down.

She closed her eyes and breathed, in and out and in and out, hearing a few birds outside starting to chirp, a couple of classmates still awake, people in her building snoring and sleeping and one of them starting to jack off, slick hand and _uh-uh-uh_. She flinched away from the sound and reached instead for Foggy, for her breath and heartbeat. She smelled like apple shampoo and human sweat, the mix of metals of her leg and the smell that was uniquely  _Foggy_.

Mattie concentrated on that. Foggy's heartbeat was smooth, steady and calm. She was relaxed and asleep, the rest of her body loose. Mattie matched her breathing to the perfectly rhythmic  _thump-thump_  as best she could, and then slowed it back down to the three-seven-four technique Caitlin had taught her. 

It was quieter for a while, Mattie hearing nothing but Foggy's heartbeat. It soothed something in her to hear it, to know that Foggy was alive and well, strong and capable. Mattie brought her legs up to her chest and focused on nothing but Foggy's body and its rhythms and harmonies, and fell back asleep in less than an hour.


	5. Chapter 5

One of the things Mattie learned early on in their relationship—before they even first kissed—was that Foggy really,  _really_ likes Mattie's hair. She mentioned it on the first day, even.

(The first day they met, on freshman move-in day, Foggy says, "Hi, I'm Foggy Nelson."

"Hi, is this room 323?"

"Yeah," Foggy says. "Why?"

"It's my room," Mattie explains, puts down her suitcase, and then goes to lug up the three other suitcases. The rest is being shipped to her.

"Uh, hi," Foggy says.

"Hi," Mattie distractedly replies. "I'm Mattie Murdock."

"Murdock—you mean you're that one girl that _saved that guy's life_?" Foggy says, sounding delighted. Mattie freezes. She has no scripts for this.

"I'm blind," she says, fishing for something to steer away from that topic. "I hope that's okay with you." It's not as icy as she wants, thrown off-guard by the cheerful adulation.

"Oh, okay, yeah," Foggy says. "Yeah, you're just a normal blind woman. An _extremely_ good-looking blind woman and holy shit your hair is just...unbelievable. And wow, I'm sorry, you look really uncomfortable, I'm so sorry—"

"No," Mattie cuts her off, blinking. "That's. Nice. Thank you.")

Mattie can't really blame her. It's long and thick and smooth, Mattie knows, and more difficult than it appears at first glance. She feeds it shea butter and coconut oil and, once a month, a bath of egg yolk and peanut butter.She does not cut it, not to trim the imaginary split ends or for any reason. She refuses. She combs it nightly and usually loosely braids it before bed and brushes it twice daily, and if it's up to her she'll only ever braid it or put it in a bun or a ponytail. Maybe a French braid if she's feeling fancy. 

But Foggy loves playing with it. She loves combing it, brushing it, running it through her fingers. She loves how it falls into big, loose ringlets if curled overnight, and tries out a lot of styles on it, and never touches it without asking.

(The one time she accidentally did, Mattie had silently jumped and turned around and hit whoever had been touching her hair and given Foggy a awful bruise and hated herself for a good three months afterwards and ended up going to a therapist and finding Caitlin, because if she was the kind of crazy that meant she was hitting her best friend then that was too fucking crazy to manage on her own.)

Foggy tries out all sorts of things on Mattie's hair. She does inside-out French braids (what she calls dinosaur braids), she does some sort of braid that's a five or six-stranded rope, she does a spiral braided rose-bun, a different rose-bun, a double-swirl bun secured with pins, double fishtail braids, a spiral braid, a crown-braid made of a rose bun and fishtails, a backwards French-braid-bun. She puts it in double buns and pigtails and curlers, and spends hours and hours just brushing it on Foggy's bed, Mattie lying down and content because Foggy is the  _best_ at hair, she brushes from the bottom up and gently unknots all the stubborn snarls and tangles. It makes her feel like a vacuumed cat, safe and warm and drowsy. It fills up her need for touch on days when she can't stand anything on her skin.

(The idea that all autistic people are touch-averse is a filthy  _lie_. Foggy and Mattie call each other 'snuggle-bunny' for a  _reason_. But apart from Foggy, Frank, Maria, Lisa and maybe Karen, Mattie does not want to be touched at all, and even Karen and Maria get only short hugs.)

Foggy takes pictures of her hair, of it soft and fluffy and smooth, with her permission and without posting them anywhere. (Mattie can hear lies. Mattie double-checks every three weeks, and Foggy doesn't take it personally anymore after a joint therapy session.)

One of her art assignments one semester in junior year involves painting four portraits of the same person, and all of them are of Mattie: one of her lying in bed, her hair in smooth ringlets, freshly brushed-out, surrounded by Foggy's teddy bears and on her floral sheets. One of them is of her after an amateur for-charity MMA match, still in her shorts and tank top and sports bra and hand-wraps, eating a burrito and laughing, steak and guacamole and salsa and rice and beans falling out of her mouth, baby hairs stuck to her sweaty forehead and bun at her neck tight. One is of her standing in debate, elegant indigo suit and crisp pearly-white shirt, making a point with her glasses on and hair perfectly bunned. The final one is her in a Columbia sweatshirt and jeans, studying at her desk, concentrated and stimming with a tangle-toy, hair loose in a hasty braid, blue earbuds in and screenreader reading off properties of rings.

(Mattie gets descriptions of the paintings from three different people and Foggy only has to present one to the class and not just the professor. She presents the one with Mattie in debate. Foggy keeps them in a safe place in her closet. Mattie trusts Foggy with how she looks, even though she still gets the occasional panic attack over it. She refuses to let her mental illnesses run their relationship.)

It's during one of those sessions where Mattie is quiet and near-nonverbal, humming and making soft  _I'm listening_ noises and occasional moans of pleasure as Foggy does her hair that it comes out.

"I don't want to get a class ring," Foggy says.

"Mmm," Mattie says.

A moment, and then suddenly, angrily, "Because it would have to be bigger than normal and Rosalind would be buying it and she'd just make stupid fucking noises about how I need to go on Weight Watcher or how she wants to sue my oncologist for the weight gain because of the chemo or how she's gonna try to buy me plastic surgery on my fingers or some shit and I fucking  _hate it!_ "

Mattie blinks and turns over. "Foggy?"

"Yeah?"

"I like your hands. They're not too big."

Foggy sounds surprised.

"I like them," Mattie insists. "They're nice and gentle and you don't pull or make my eyes water."

"Who pulled on your hair?" Foggy asks, half-yelping in outrage. "That should be a felony! It's a violation of the ADA!"

Mattie snickers. "How is that a violation of the ADA?"

"It's violating my reasonable accommodation against crushing existential depression to look at your beautiful hair," Foggy retorts. 

Mattie laughs again.

"But seriously, who pulled on your hair?"

"Oh, the nuns," she says. "Most of them didn't mind me keeping it cut until high school because it was so hard for them to brush."

"You kept it cut until high school?"

"Yeah," Mattie says. "Stick yanked on it when we first sparred, and then I cut it with a bowl."

Foggy sucks in a sharp breath. Mattie takes another deep one. 

"That is a crime against nature," Foggy says again, and Mattie laughs and reaches for Foggy's hands. She knows what to do now in these sorts of situations.

"But seriously," she says. "I like your hands. They don't hurt and they don't hit and they are the correct size and softness for you. I'm glad you don't have hands that get too cold or are too bony. Your hands painted me and they hold me and they massage my neck sometimes after I get a migraine. And they feel good on my skin and over my clothes," and she adds as Foggy shifts on the bed, "And you grab my ass just right with them. I like listening to your hands typing and writing and texting. Your hands touch me right. I like holding them."

Foggy's breath hitches, and then relaxes. "I love you, baby. And your ass."

"I love you too," Mattie says, and rolls back over onto her side. "And your hands." She reaches out and kisses them, and she feels Foggy shiver and then slowly sink back down to calm. Foggy resumes doing her hair, starting by re-brushing it.

"I'm still not getting a class ring."

"Mmm. I don't like rings."

Foggy makes a soft noise and starts pulling her hair into a half bow-bun. 

"Wait, what are we doing to do for wedding rings then?"

Mattie thinks. "Matching cartilage piercings?"

"No!"

"Matching rings on necklaces?"

"Well, maybe," Foggy says. "We can figure it out later."

"Mmm," Mattie says, and sinks back down, safe and anchored by Foggy's beautiful hands.

(Later, she makes it a point to tell Foggy more often how much she likes her hands, sets up a weekly reminder to massage her fingers carefully, tells Foggy how she likes her hair too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to Mattie's hair texture and length when lying down and having it brushed here (http://albinwonderland.com/post/38216380544/last-night-jess-brushed-my-hair-for-an-hour-and-a) and reference to Mattie's normal hair texture here (http://albinwonderland.com/post/36053060520/i-just-took-my-hair-out-of-this-monstrous-thing), though not color.
> 
> Picture references for the hairstyles in order for which they appear in the paragraph starting by 'Foggy tries out all sorts of things on Mattie's hair': (http://cos.h-cdn.co/assets/14/43/768x1001/nrm_1414171007-0y3a5160.jpg), (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/5c/58/94/5c58945f5c5a82201a6a4a5ffa2b335f.jpg), (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/0a/bf/ae/0abfae7feacf004f300fab5dce9f8d59.jpg), (http://www.stylishboard.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/225.jpg), (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/d0/48/39/d0483957f9fb5ae1b57551c0864ae891.jpg), (http://lionesseflatiron.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/Lionesse-Beautiful-Braids-to-Try-This-Summer-Fishtail-Pigtails-e1435614672590.jpg), (http://cos.h-cdn.co/assets/14/43/768x576/nrm_1414170754-0y3a5619.jpg), (http://cos.h-cdn.co/assets/14/43/768x1064/nrm_1414171536-0y3a7114.jpg), (http://cos.h-cdn.co/assets/14/43/768x1151/nrm_1414171906-0y3a6512.jpg)
> 
> Picture reference to the hairstyle Foggy is putting Mattie's hair in at the end: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/85/d8/91/85d891f34652ea2d4b947608a9fbf359.jpg


	6. Chapter 6

It's during one late night in Foggy's parent's house, Foggy playing Mario Kart and Mattie reading an article about the long-term effectiveness of a malaria medication on autoimmune disorders. Part of it is exposure therapy--being around someone swearing, snarling, and generally ranting at something inanimate without it hurting her at all reinforces that she doesn't need to be wary and tense at any sign of anger--and part of it is just enjoying Foggy's company without having to be  _doing_ all the same things as her. Some of her relatives are milling around in the dining room and kitchen, but most of them are asleep or heading home.

Things are quiet for a while, right up until Mattie spots a bad smell and wrinkles her nose. Ugh.

But as Foggy's cousin Georgina walks by, she says, "Oh god, Foggy, is that  _you_? It smells like a rat died up your ass!"

"Excuse you, I have never had a  _rat_ up my ass," Foggy snaps, "Only the finest of animals, and--FUCK, I got blue-shelled again! Fuck you you fucking asswipe Wario!"

Georgina laughs and walks past, calling out behind her, "Deeaaad raaaat!"

Mattie covers her nose with her sleeve, and then things go back to normal as she processes that apparently, acknowledging...those things...is normal in Foggy's family. It hadn't been at St Agnes's, certainly. But then again, a lot of things had not been allowed to be acknowledged there.

The pattern holds over the next week or so. Just as the Nelson family tease each other about certain stories and characteristics--Foggy's uncle Joseph's chin, Foggy's cousin Emily's first relationship, Foggy's grandmother's foul mouth--they all tease each other about their bodily functions, and certainly Foggy joins in on the jokes. Mattie mostly doesn't react, which she can hear makes some of them think she's being condescending and others worry they've offended her somehow--which, well, it's complicated but mostly they haven't.

So a week from the original fart, Mattie is sitting on the couch again and Foggy is swearing about being blue-shelled and red-shelled and, "Oh GOD that's not fair! I just got fucking green-shelled  _and_ I slipped on a banana! Fuck this!"

And then she  _farts_ again, and this time Mattie doesn't silently pretend it isn't happening. Instead, she melodramatically covers up her nose with a spare blanket and wails, "Fog _gy_! That smells like cat shit!"

Foggy turns her head and then  _laughs_ , bright and warm, and defends herself. "Yeah, well, your farts are some sort of chemical weapon, which as you know is against the Geneva code--"

"Excuse you! I do not fart!" Mattie snaps.

"You totally do!"

Mattie rolls her eyes. "I do not fart, and yours are  _revolting._ I am going to bed," she says, listening to Foggy laugh as she flounces out of the room and comes back with a small breathable paper mask on, making her girlfriend giggle as she starts another race.


End file.
